A Tale In Skyrim
by JohnnyBoyF
Summary: Self-Insert. Fate has a strange way of choosing heroes. After getting trapped a new land, getting caught up in a rebellion, and finding out she is the Dragonborn, Sor'aya must learn all she can about Skyrim and its people if she ever hopes to make it back to Cyrodiil alive. Her adventure will lead her down many paths and into many faces before she truly understands her destiny.
1. Tracking Down My Destiny

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any rights to The Elder Scrolls series, Skyrim, or any of the characters that appear in both my story and the game. These are the intellectual properties of Bethesda Softworks. While the story's plot progresses in my own way, it does follow the quest lines of the Skyrim game.

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Chapter 1: Tracking Down My Destiny

The unicorn can't be too far now. The tracks seem fresher than ever and the scent is stronger than usual, which isn't saying much. Unicorn scent isn't that strong to begin with, smelling only faintly of the freshest spring water covered with the fairest of flowers. And for being the size of a normal mare, the tracks make the beast seem as though it nearly glides over the ground. But I will not give up. I will track down this unicorn until the end of days, even if I don't know what I will do with it. What does one do with a unicorn? I heard a tale that the hero of the Oblivion Crisis once rode a unicorn across the providence, using it as a symbol for inspiring hope, and then they set it free. It would be fantastic if I could train it and have it be the crowning treasure of my family: a rare and majestic trophy. As well, such a rare and majestic beast could also be sold for a fine amount of coin…. My family will finally move out of that shack of a house and into something fit for nobility and the higher-ups. There are so many possibilities of want to do after I've caught this creature… if I catch this creature. I have never hunted anything so elusive.

It has been almost a full day since I began tracking the unicorn. I went out for a casual hunt like I often do to provide food for my family so we won't have to spend the extra coin for the overpriced slabs of meat from the market that only last a day. We can have fresh kill of multiple animals for no cost. The more I hunt, the more coin we save. After a few hours and gathering up small rabbits, foxes, and plants, I saw the unicorn. Standing in a stream of midday sunlight, seeming to glisten and sparkle like sunlight on a lake. Even through my shock I could make note of the smell, a beautiful aroma unlike any of the finest perfume I have ever known; the scent of the purest nature that has only known peace and life. With its dark black eyes sitting in contrast to the rest of its snow white body, the unicorn stared into my eyes and hooked all of my attention. In that moment I only knew of the unicorn and the believability of this moment. How rare a chance like this occurs and how incredibly lucky I was to have come across such a creature. With its eyes peering into mine, my soul felt touched and bathed in a sense of purpose. I began to feel as though this encounter would lead to something much greater. The unicorn then turned its head and within a second disappeared from my sight through the trees and over the hill. I stood in awe as I processed the majesty such a creature could exude and the luck that was just granted me. By the Nine, I saw a unicorn! The momentary shock wore off as I realized that the unicorn was gone, but the feeling of purposed still weighed in my heart. What was it that I was feeling? It was like that unicorn held the solutions to all my needs in life, that it knew what the future had in store for me, that it recognized me and chose me for something. Without wasting another moment I forced my legs into the fastest sprint I could and began to chase after that unicorn. I needed to understand the feelings it bestowed upon me.

I tracked the beast for hours. It was heading north towards the mountains that lead me pass Cloud Ruler Temple. I briefly took in the fact that all my years living in Bruma, I have never seen the place up close. I could always see this place from my home, though it was far off in the distance. Sometimes I would sit on top of my roof, watch the place for any activity, and daydream about what it would be like to be one of the Blades. How adventurous it would be to protect the Emperor and his heirs! But unfortunately, they only pick the best soldiers in all the land. And although I would be willing to dedicate my life to the protection of the Emperor, I am no solder; only a poor Khajiit who must hunt rabbits in order to feed her family.

I continued tracking the mare into the most northern reaches of Cyrodiil and began into the mountains. The steep slopes of the mountain had little safety to them, and the unicorn seemed to tread an unusual path, but I was determined. My bow was sheathed very securely while I carefully climbed over the vast amount of boulders that covered the mountainside. At this point the only confirmation telling me I was still on the trail of the unicorn was the faint whiff of its beautiful smell. I thanked my Khajiit nose for its enhanced ability to smell. Finally, after some time of trekking over hard rock, the trail once again resumed on grass; a winding way through the trees and between the mountains. I took a moment to rest to and looked behind me. I hadn't realized how high up I had made it. I have also been lead much more west than I originally estimated. From where I stood I could tell that I am in between the western border of the Imperial City, but still east enough to not be directly north of Chorrol. The view was still beyond breathtaking. I had to admire how beautiful Cyrodiil looked in the light of the setting sun.

The setting sun…. Night will be upon me soon enough and it would take several hours to return home to Bruma. I might as well set up camp and rest here for the night. If I did that I would certainly lose the trail of the unicorn, likely to never see another again. Probably for the best; I wouldn't know what to do with a unicorn if I caught one. Certainly I would not kill it because that would just be idiotic. As I stood there watching over all of Cyrodiil, contemplating all scenarios of me catching the unicorn, the sun set faster than I realized it could. Darkness began to grow thicker around me while I still had no camp or any clue as to what I was doing. I let out a big sigh as I dropped the bag of game I hunted earlier in that morning and decided that camp would be best. There was no point in chasing down a unicorn. I took out my knife and began chopping off branches to build a fire.

I could still smell the lovely aroma of the mare. While I was delighted to smell it, it was a painful reminder that I must give up on my hunt. I began to cut at a nearby branch as the painful thoughts battered at my mind. I felt as though this hunt was some divine quest that I failed at; hunting down a mystical beast only to give up because of darkness. Although I suppose that is as good a reason as any to give up on a hunt. Even with the aid of my night-eye ability, hunting in the dark if very difficult. If I can't clearly see the creature or the path, then there is no way to catch the damn mare. The branch finally fell off the tree and landed on the ground with a crunch. As I bent down to collect it I realized there was little vegetation on the ground, and what was left was blanketed by a small about of soft snow. Upon further inspection, I could make out a milk thistle plant. My heart began to weight heavy with a quickened pace as I began to realize the danger I was currently in. I was in the Jerall Mountains, and while not deep enough in them to be helpless, well enough in to know that at any moment I could be faced with either wolves or bears or both. Those animals are quite a common sight in these mountains. How could I be so stupid as to overlook this and wonder into such a dangerous area?

Suddenly camp seemed like a less attractive idea. With haste, I looked at the area around me to make sure I was not in any immediate danger. And as I spotted a four legged figure in the distance, I quickly reached to ready my bow, only to freeze when I realized what I was looking at.

In the last light of the setting sun I could just make out its shape, made unmistakable by the long horn on its forehead. Once again the creature looked upon me with a captivating gaze that touched my soul, but once I started to register that the unicorn was still within my grasp, it fled once more. Compelled to chase it, I set off in a sprint to catch it. I the back of my mind, I could not help but wonder how it was that I was still on the trail of this unicorn. The way it appeared to me again right as I was beginning to give up on my hunt, and the way the beast looks at me, it is almost as though it wants me to follow it.

As night descends, and all sunlight is gone from this land, I kick in my night-eye ability to better see the path before me. I trek deeper into the Jerall Mountains, into parts I feel as though no creature above a rodent has been. As I continue to track, my thoughts toggle between being focused on the hunt, what to do once I have caught it, and why I am hunting it to begin with. I hope beyond reason that I have not accidently wondered into the providence of Skyrim. Travelling across boarders without a clearance can become a hefty fine; which my parents may not have the coin to cover should my impulsiveness get me jailed.

I have spent hours on the disorienting paths of these mountains. I can no longer tell how far I have travelled from Bruma and, because of these peaks blocking out the moon, can no longer understand which direction I am heading. As I hear the birds begin to sing, I grasp that the sun will soon rise. I have been tracking this unicorn for nearly a full day. The trail unravels and becomes smooth. The unicorn has led me out of the winding mountain full of trees and rock and onto an actual road; a road most likely used to travel between the providences. I know now that the beast is heading me into Skyrim.

My heart beats heavily as the situation sets in. I am heading into dangerous area and I really should turn back and forget about this damn unicorn. But doing a quick assessment, I reason that the unicorn can't be too far now. The tracks seem fresher than ever and the scent is stronger than usual, though that isn't saying much. I must be so close to finally catching this creature, even though I still do not know what to do with it. Even without thinking about how this catch would be a tremendous gain for me and my family, that feeling of fate pulls me further into Skyrim. Against all rationality, I feel as though this is finally the moment. I pull my bow in front of me and walk slowly down the road. I know the unicorn is around here somewhere. I want to get this over with. Hopefully I can ride it home, but I might settle for shooting the troublesome beast in the leg and just drag it home.

I crouch into a sneak a keep my night-eye active. Slowly I continue, knowing that I could see it at any moment. The heavenly aroma fills my nose and I strain my ears for any sound that resembles a mystical creature of purity that walks as light as a feather. But I did hear something; I hear breathing off in the distance. Multiple breaths actually. Hopefully this is just another irregularity about this unicorn that makes it so difficult to catch. But as I hear a rustle of leaves to my right, I realize how tightly pent up my anxiety was. I jump and yelp as I release an arrow in the direction of the sound.

I immediately regret doing so.

"She shot an arrow at us!" said one of the three Nord men halfway out of the brush.

"What a dumb little cat" said another as he pulls a sword from its sheath. Instantly I become so frightened for my immediate future.

The first Nord speaks up again. "Think she might be with that rebel group? Sneaking around with her bow out, makes me wonder if she's trying to free them!" I want to defend myself and tell them all this was just an accident and a big misunderstanding, but my voice gets caught in my throat. I'm so terrified that I cannot even speak to literally save my life.

"She came from the south. Obviously she wandered here from Cyrodiil. Doubt she even really knows about his rebel group" said the third man. He seems to be the smartest of the three. And he was right; I had no clue what rebels they were talking about. I haven't heard of any rebellion happening in Cyrodiil and I couldn't have made it into Skyrim yet. At least I hoped I was still in Cyrodiil. Maybe it would be possible to reason with this man? "Either way, we can arrest her on illegally crossing the border."

Guess not.


	2. Bound Together, Executed Together

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any rights to The Elder Scrolls series, Skyrim, or any of the characters that appear in both my story and the game. These are the intellectual properties of Bethesda Softworks. While the story's plot progresses in my own way, it does follow the quest lines of the Skyrim game.

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Ch. 2: Bound Together, Executed Together

I awoke with a headache. My muscles were sore and my stomach was growling. It seemed as though my body was being violently bounced around, which was probably what woke me up in the first place.

My vision was slowing coming into focus. I was still groggy, but I began to make out trees and rocks and, obviously, the sky. And it was cold, too cold for any region of Cyrodiil….

Then I realized that my body was still being lurched around, but nothing was pulling on me. I felt the stern plank underneath my backside and could hear the wooden wheels rolling over the hard stony ground. My senses returned all at once as I shot upright and realized that I was in a wooden cart. I was alarmed and my blooded pounded through my veins. Fearing whatever unknown situation I was now in. Looking around I took note that I wasn't alone in the cart, three men were sitting solemnly.

""Hey, you. You're finally awake" come a voice in front of me. The voice was produced by a burly man with sand-colored hair, a braid going down his left side, and dark eyes. I was too caught off guard to respond. "You were trying to cross the border, right?"

Did I?

I strained for my recent memories, but I remembered the soldiers coming towards me. They were going to arrest me under assault and crossing the border before I froze, unable to think of anything to do to help myself. My voice caught in my throat, my muscles went stiff, fear building up inside of me. I almost wanted to scream. I didn't want to go to jail!

The men didn't even bother asking me to put down my weapons before they just rushed me and wrestled me down to the cold dirt. They took my weapons and stripped me down to my last layer of clothing and then bound my hands in rope.

"Damn, I was hoping she would have some skooma on her" said the one man who drew his sword on me. "What good is a Khajiit if they don't have any skooma?"

"Right now, I can think of something this one might be good for" said the guy who thought I was with the rebel group. He had an evil grin on his face and I suddenly began to fear for more than my freedom.

With my voice still not cooperating, the only thing I could think of doing was to give the third man, the one who strikes me as the smartest in the bunch, the most pleading look I could think of. I poured all the emotion that I could into my gaze, hoping that he would realize that this was all a misunderstanding and they would let me go free as long as I promised never to return to Skyrim again.

It must have worked because before the other two had a chance to try anything, he said "That's enough you two. Let's just get her to the carriage and on the way to Helgen. We have enough to do today". May the Nine bless him.

The other two each stood on either side of me, grabbed hold of both my arms, and raised me to my feet. The Smart Guy led the way as the other two, Sword Man and Rebel Believer, practically dragged me. I didn't resist. I knew there was no hope of escaping. From lack of sleep, trekking the mountains, having not eaten in many hours, and from being emotionally exhausted from the very real possibility of facing jail, I felt all energy seep from my body. My vision got blurry and I felt dizzy. I couldn't help it; I passed out in the arms of the two guys carrying me.

"Walked right into that Imperial ambush. Same as us, and that thief over there."

I was snapped back into the present by the Nord man's voice. I was beginning to feel a little more aware and alert. So were all four of us ambushed by Imperials?

"Damn you Stormcloaks. Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy" spoke the apparent thief. His hair was slicked back to expose his pale face. His voice came out rough and angry and he glared at the other Nord man. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell". His attention then turned to me now. "You there. You and me – we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants". Now his voice came out pleading, as though he was trying to get me to side with him and be against the "Stormcloaks". I had no idea what a "Stormcloak" was and thus I didn't know how to respond to the man, so I stayed silent. Thankfully, the sandy-haired Nord saved me from having to speak. "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief" he said.

"Shut up back there!" barked the man driving the carriage. I recognized his voice, it was Smart Nord. His harsh tone didn't stop the thief though.

"And what's wrong with him, huh?" spoke the Thief, jerking his head towards the last person in the carriage. The man had been so quiet I almost forgot he was there.

"Watch your tongue!" replied the Sandy-Haired Nord prisoner. His temper rose quickly. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

My attention then turned to the last guy in my company. His mouth was gagged, keeping him quiet and from giving any input on the conversation. He looked dirty and worn out. His light brown hair looked black in some spots, matching the dirt smeared on his face. His last name was apparently "Stormcloak", the same name of the people that the Thief said the Empire was looking for. And the Sandy-Haired Nord called him the "true High King". Perhaps these people were the cause of whatever rebellion is going on mentioned by my captures? As the pieces became clear, I began to feel more and more unsettled. Obviously I had just been caught up in something big.

The Thief looked at Ulfric Stormcloak with a puzzled look. "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion".

Well, that answered my question better than could've been expected. By the Nine, what have I gotten myself mix up in? Was there some sort of civil war going on in Skyrim that the people of Cyrodiil haven't even heard of?

Then the Thief had an even darker look on his face, one of extreme fear. "But if they've captured you…. Oh gods, where are they taking us!?" He began to breathe heavily and fidget with his binds. I wanted to do the same because the man had a point. The leader of a rebellion just got captured and is on the back of a carriage in custody of the Empire, and we are grouped in with him. Maybe they will just drop Ulfric off somewhere and the rest of us will be transported to separate location.

"I don't know where we're going, but Sovngarde awaits" spoke the Sandy-Haired Nord gravely.

"No, this can't be happening. This isn't happening!" replied the Thief. His face looked almost defeated at this point as though he were facing death. He gave up trying to break his bonds. His breathing slowed into deep, hollowed inhales as his head hung to the ground. This all felt so unreal to me, as if I were merely watching this unfold through the eyes of someone else.

"Hey, what village are you from horse thief?" said the Sandy-Haired Nord, trying to distract the man.

"Why do you care?" the Thief snapped back.

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."

So I guess we are all facing death. But is death really a justified punishment for a horse thief and a border crosser? Could Skyrim's laws really be that cruel? I was always told that the providence of Skyrim was much more dangerous and unforgiving than Cyrodiil, but this sounds too extreme.

"Rorikstead. I'm… I'm from Rorikstead" replied the Thief.

"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" someone shouted out, catching all of us off guard. I then realized my new surroundings. We had gone from the cold and snowy mountains to a slightly warmer area with more greenery. We began to head underneath an overpass that served as an entrance/exit at the outer wall of a town.

"Good. Let's get this over with" responded our carriage driver. The Thief immediately began to pray to the gods to help him. He seemed to be getting more frightened by the second. I don't blame him. We were all seemingly facing death, but I could not feel fear. Perhaps my mind was still trying to wrap around everything that had happened within the last twenty-four hours, all starting because of that damned unicorn.

Off to the side of the road we were currently on, right behind the outer wall, stood a group of soldiers in gold armor talking to some of the towns guards.

"Look at him, General Tullius the Military Governor" began the Sandy-Haired Nord. "And it looks like the Thalmor are with him. Damn Elves. I bet they had something to do with this".

I have heard of the Thalmor. "Elven supremacists", as they are called, who claimed sole responsibility for closing the Oblivion Gates in the Dominion. They refuse to give due credit to Martin Septim, the true hero who ended the Oblivion Crisis by destroying the Amulet of Kings and calling upon the power of Akatosh. I do not know a great lot about the Thalmor, but I have met many people who have shared the same views as they do. I have never sided with anyone who tried to cover up the true events of the Oblivion Crisis. People trying to bend history in a way to make themselves look better than what they truly are. It makes my blood boil.

"Funny," began the Sandy-Haired Nord, "when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe".

I understood exactly how he felt. Bruma's walls were so well guarded and so sturdy that I felt as though not even an army could penetrate the city. The guards of Bruma were so nice to me too. They all knew my name from how often I would greet them as I went in and out of the city gates for hunting. I would even trade meats with some of them. But now I was being escorted by several guards while under restraints. The wall surrounding this town was built for protection; to keep wildlife out. But now I saw them as sides of a cage. The lookout towers can see long distances in all directions; I would never be able to run away. I was trapped.

Townsfolk began to gather outside their homes to watch as we continued to the center of town. One child sat on his porch and stared as we passed. I tried not to make eye contact with him. His father, I presumed, tried to talk the boy into going inside the house. "You need to go inside, little cub", he said to his child. "Little cub". What an amusing endearment. I began to imagine that child as a Khajiit. A literal cub perched on the stoop while watching as I am lead to my grave. How would the child react? Would he even be able to grasp the concept of what was about to happen? Would it be appropriate to yell out to the child that not all Khajiits are treated this way?

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers," the child replied to his father. His remark saddened me. He was more intrigued by the soldiers going about a duty than he was by the prisoners they carried. Are prisoners that insignificant to a child? Nord or Khajiit, no prisoner should have to feel as though their final moments of life are insignificant when compared to the praise of the job title of their executioners. I caught sight of the Sandy-Haired Nord and he was looking at the child as well. His hurtful expression indicated that he might have been thinking the exact same thoughts I was thinking.

The carriage pulled into an area that looked like the center of the town, and pulled next to other carriages holding other people in bonds. More prisoners. They were all Nords, so I could not help but wonder if they are all part of this Stormcloak Rebellion?

"Why are we stopping?" asked the Thief, looking around the square with a panicked expression.

"Why do you think? End of the line," answered the Sandy-Haired Nord. There was no emotion in his voice. He seemed prepared for this fate. The soldiers began opening the carriage doors and ordering the all the prisoners off of them to stand in a group on the ground.

"Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us," this time when the Sandy-Haired Nord spoke, his voice was filled with sternness that he seemed just ready to get this over with. Ready to meet the gods and start the journey that is the afterlife.

Unfortunately the Thief did not have his level readiness to die.

"No! Wait! We're not rebels!" he yelled out, hoping to get enough reason out of the guards to spare his life. We were being lead off of the carriage and onto the stone and dirt ground. The Thief turned to Ulfric Stormcloak and pleaded. "You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" It sounded like he was pleading for my life for me as well. I appreciated the attempt, but overall it seemed like a useless gesture. The soldiers did not even seem to notice the poor man's cry.

"Step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time," demanded a male guard. He held a book of what I assumed was a list of names in one hand, and a quill in the other. Dressed in a typical towns-guard outfit, it didn't seem as though he held much authority. He probably got stuck with this roll calling task out of bad luck.

"Face your death with some courage, thief," said the Sandy-Haired Nord.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm," called out the male guard. Ulfric wasted no time to step forward and marched stoically to the spot they designated him to go stand. He kept every bit of composure possible. If Ulfric Stormcloak was afraid of dying, you would not have known.

"Ralof of Riverwood," he called out next. This time it was the Sandy-Haired Nord who walked forward. Ralof. I finally got to hear his name. He walked with almost as much composure as Ulfric, but fell short of his leader by slouching forward as he walked and having a small amount of sadness in his eyes. He took his position next to Ulfric.

"Lokir of Rorikstead," was the next name the guard called out. It was the Thief. Sad to be learning the names of these men only at the end of their lives.

He was not keen on going as quietly as the two Nords before him. "No, I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" he yelled at the guard. The fear was now very prominent. Lokir's entire body shook and he face was strained with worry. It was obvious that this man was completely terrified of death. His head swiveled to look at each soldiers face, asking every one of them to spare his life. To understand that he didn't deserve to die and that they should terminate his execution. But no soldier or towns guard or anybody was on his side. No person spoke out to spare him. And when it was clear that there was no hope for his life, he ran.

"You're not going to kill me!" Lokir hollered out as he ran as fast as he could down the road in front of him. The guards were too caught off guard to stop him as he shoved passed a few.

"Halt!" called out a soldier who wore the bronze and gold armor of an Imperial Captain. But Lokir had no intention of complying.

As the soldier raised her arm and yelled out "Archers!" as several guards readied their bows and took aim at the fleeing Lokir. But before they released death onto the horse thief, Lokir raised his bound hands and conjured a distorted space between his hands. And when he bought his hands back down to his body, he vanished into a puff of black and purple smoke, completely disappearing from sight. The archers fired their arrows, but none of them suck Lokir. His footsteps began fading from hearing and before too long he seemed to have made a clear escape.

"After him!" yelled the Imperial Captain. Several Imperial guards on horseback galloped down the path that Lokir took, and soon they were gone as well. She then turned her attention back to the rest of us and ordered every available guard to brand their weapons. "No one else better even think about running away! As you gather your final thoughts, know that Lokir will be found and killed without mercy!" No one moved. If anyone else were going to run, they might have done so already during the confusion of Lokir fleeing while invisible. But if the remaining people were all loyal to Ulfric Stormcloak, and fought with him during a rebellion, I doubt they would abandon him now.

With no one looking to make a break for it, the Imperial Captain motioned for the male guard with the list to continue calling the names. He looked at me, and then looked at his list, and then back at me. "Wait. You there. Step forward," he commanded me. Something in his book must not have been adding up. I did as he instructed. "Who are you?" he asked me.

I was scared to answer. Answering his question, giving up my name, would be the seal that officially groups me with the rebels and marks me for death. But it isn't as though refusing to tell him my name will save me. There would be no way for me to escape if I were to run. I don't know magic well enough to disappear or to even conjure up a fireball. My bow is gods know where and I'm not about to try to wrestle one off of a soldier.

I looked over to Ulfric Stormcloak, who was sitting on his knees near a chopping block. His mouth was still hidden behind a cloth, but this exaggerated his eyes. His eyes glared at me as if he were studying me, anxious of what I might do. Give my name and join his rebels in death or try to plea for my life. Then I looked over to Ralof, who only stared at the ground. The words he spoke to Lokir rang in my head. " _A Nord's last thoughts should be of home."_

Home…. I wonder if my parents will be contacted after my execution. Will they live the rest of their lives thinking I was secretly part of a Skyrim rebellion? The thought of never seeing them again was heavy enough to make my eyes tear up. That last goodbye I told them yesterday morning would be the last time they would ever hear my voice. And it would be the last time I heard theirs. I would never be able to thank them for all that they have done for me. For taking me in when I became an orphan, for being stable pillars of support, for loving me unconditionally.

With my heart heavy and tears soaking into the fur around my eyes, I returned my attention to the man with the list. I opened my mouth and spoke through the sobs. My voice cracked from my dry throat and long overdue use.

"My name is Sor'Aya," I managed to say.


End file.
